


At Least I'm Waking Up

by sailorstkwrning



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco, Phantom Planet, The Academy Is..., The Young Veins
Genre: Christmas, Christmas elf!Jon, Community: bandomstuffsit, M/M, Temporary Amnesia, Vampire!Alex, cross-dressing, selkie!Brendon, supernatural detectives, vampire!Ryan, werewolf!Spencer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 21:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorstkwrning/pseuds/sailorstkwrning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A seasonal story of supernatural detectives, in which Ryan Ross makes a lucky escape, and Brendon Urie makes a surprising discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Least I'm Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for bandomstuffsit 2010; beta'd by egelantier.
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of violence and vampires.

Brendon was on the couch, Spencer whuffling softly next to him, half-watching _Family Guy_ and half- reviewing his notes for the case they'd been handed that morning when he heard loud knocking on the front door.

He kicked Spencer's ankle and Spencer grunted at him. The front door rattled again, louder this time, and Brendon dropped his notebook and stood up. It was late and they weren't expecting anyone. He thought about getting his gun and decided against it; it was probably just a neighbor with an emergency. Just in case he was wrong he grabbed the nearest heavy thing he could find, which turned out to be a light saber, and walked into the hallway.

"Hello?" he called out. "Who's there?"

There was no answer. Brendon tightened his grip on the light saber and opened the door. He was surprised to find Ryan standing in front of him. His hair was loose and curly, and he was wearing a cape and filthy, torn trousers. His feet were bare and dirty and he was soaking wet. 

"Ryan?" Brendon said, and Ryan blinked at him, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled. He was white as a sheet and his is face was blanker than usual, his eyes dark and wide. 

"Sssselkie," Ryan said, low, soft, and vaguely inquisitive.

"Brendon," Brendon said, the first real tendrils of alarm uncurling in his stomach. "What the hell happened - come _in_ , dude."

Ryan blinked at him again; Brendon could see the tips of his fangs poking out from under his lips. Ryan took a careful step over the threshold, and another.

"What the fuck? Ryan, what are you doing here?" Spencer asked from behind them, his voice sharp and clear in the silence. 

"Spencer," Ryan said, and he sounded relieved. "Hungry," his fangs sliding over his lower lip again, as his eyes drifted towards Brendon.

Spencer stepped closer, into the light, and curled an arm around Brendon's waist and his fingers into Brendon's belt loops. 

"Brendon is not for breakfast," Spencer said, flat and firm. "Where's Jon? What happened to your shoes?"

"Jon," Ryan repeated, sounding puzzled again, then canted forward to look at his feet. He was frowning when he straightened up. "Do I live here, Spencer?"

"Fuck _me_ ," Spencer muttered, dropping his arm. "No, Ryan, you don't live here. Brendon, can you - I think there's a thing of plasma in the fridge. I'm going to call in and find out what the fuck is going on."

"Okay," Brendon said, suddenly and violently aware of his heartbeat. 

"My head hurts," Ryan said, after another long pause. 

"There's aspirin in the kitchen," Brendon said, taking Ryan's hand. It was icy cold and dry; he probably really hadn't eaten in a while. "Come on, let's get you some food."

Ryan followed easily enough, and when they got to the kitchen he lowered himself onto a chair with great deliberation and looked around the room slowly, as if he had never seen it before. Brendon could hear Spencer's voice rising and falling in the bedroom as he opened the fridge. Being careful not to turn his back on Ryan, he slid his hand down until he met the sharp edge of the bag of plasma. Brendon usually hated having it in there next to the milk, but he was grateful for it now. He lifted it up and gave it a little shake, then handed it to Ryan.

Or rather, tried to hand it to Ryan. Brendon held it out, but Ryan just looked at it blankly, and then up at Brendon again, his fangs extending further over his lips.

"It's O negative, your favorite flavor," Brendon said, hoping to spark some recognition, but Ryan didn't react.

"Okay," Brendon muttered, then peeled the straw off and pushed it through the little silver seal - sometimes the similarity to Capri-Sun was disconcerting - and put the it down on the table in front of Ryan.

Ryan extended a finger and touched the bag gently, his frown deepening, and Brendon inched sideways until he got to the drawer where Spencer kept the first-aid kit and the emergency rosary bracelets. Ryan picked up the bag of plasma and brought the straw to his mouth. He took in a mouthful, grimaced, and swallowed it. Brendon slid a bracelet onto one hand and gave Ryan two aspirin with the other. Ryan narrowed his eyes at the bracelet, but took the aspirin without fuss, swallowing them with another clearly reluctant mouthful of plasma.

The door opened and Spencer walked in wearing his gun in his service harness and carrying Brendon's. His hair was sticking up in three different directions but his eyes were cool and focused. Brendon took his harness when Spencer held it out, and slid it over his shoulders.

"If you have to shoot, shoot to kill," Spencer mouthed. Brendon swallowed hard and nodded.

"Patrol brought Jon in an hour ago," Spencer said out loud. "Found him in Skid Row. Someone was using him as Christmas decoration. He's wet and bruised but he'll be fine. He was playing live wire, all he knows is, one minute they were discussing pocket watches with the pixie dust king of Los Angeles, the next minute deal went bad. He's pretty sure he ate dirt when Ryan went down - he thinks they maybe tried to take Ryan out, human-style."

"Shit," Brendon muttered, as Ryan turned to face them.

" _Hungry_ ," Ryan repeated, sounding both plaintive and annoyed.

"Drink your plasma," Spencer said absently. "Pete's pulling Bill and Mike in, just in case, and Chizzy and the Butcher will be here in -"

"Don't _want_ plasma," Ryan said, his voice rising, and grabbed Spencer's wrist.

Spencer yanked it away and turned to look at Ryan, irritation clear on his face, and then as suddenly as it had appeared, it drained away. Brendon had to admit, Ryan might be about to have them both for dinner, but it was hard to be angry with him when he looked so bedraggled. Ryan, clearly sensing his advantage, widened his eyes and pushed his lower lip out.

"All right, all right, fine," Spencer sighed. "I'll feed you."

"While you do that, I'm going to get him some dry clothes," Brendon said, and escaped into the bedroom.

He took a minute to lean against the door and be freaked out, because _holy shit_ , this was bad, then rummaged through the clean laundry pile in the closet until he found a shirt and some pajama pants that would probably fit. 

"His name is Brendon," he heard Spencer say as he moved to the dresser and slid the sock drawer open. "He's part of our team and - he's my - if you so much as think about laying a fang on him without his permission, I will stake you myself."

Brendon held very still, barely daring to breathe. He knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but at the moment he didn't care. He mentally promised he'd confess (and apologize, if necessary) to Spencer later. Ryan said something Brendon couldn't quite make out, and Spencer sighed.

"No, because - look, it's complicated, okay." Spencer paused, and a chair scraped in the kitchen. "I keep him warm at night, that much I can do, and it's not - it's not weird."

Brendon turned and looked at their bed, his thoughts whirling as puzzle pieces flew into place. 

"Since the Academy," Spencer said. "You were in class at night and we liked the same kind of dumb movies, and then - I don't know, I got used to the stupid noises he makes and the way he scratches behind my ears - oh fuck off -" he broke off, laughing.

Brendon slid the sock drawer shut as quietly as he could and opened the underwear drawer. It had never seemed unusual to him before that he and Spencer shared the dresser - the apartment was way too tiny for them to be fussy about these things - 

"I don't know," Spencer said, softly, and maybe a little sad. "It's not like we talk about it. We've been working so much neither of us has really had time for anything, and I didn't want to ask. I figure if he starts seeing someone, I - well, we have two rooms."

Brendon stopped again, clutching the dresser as his world spun sideways and ground to a halt. He had seen Spencer with women - the previous spring he'd spent some time with one elf in particular that none of them would soon forget - but, well, clearly the two of them had a lot to discuss. Not the least of which was how their "second room" was Spencer's moon room, and full of random shredded furniture and chew toys, and had never been intended to be anyone's bedroom.

Brendon closed the drawer, loudly this time, and went back into the kitchen. Spencer was in a chair with Ryan in his lap and nestled against his chest. Spencer had one arm across his back and Ryan was nursing at his other wrist, his eyes sliding shut as Spencer rubbed his back with his free hand. Brendon could see Ryan settling as he drank; if he was human he would be falling asleep. After a minute he pulled back, licking Spencer's wrist again to close the wounds. Spencer shook his arm out and kept petting him. 

"These will fit, I think," Brendon said, setting the clothes on the table. 

Ryan sat up a little bit, and pushed his hair out of his face. Some color had come back into his skin, and he seemed more alert. Brendon walked around the table to get some cookies for Spencer; the next time he turned around Ryan was standing up and carefully peeling himself out of his wet clothes.

"We joined the police force," Ryan said, as if he was trying out the words. "Again?"

"Yes," Spencer said leaning forward to rest his arms on the table. Brendon handed him the cookies and poured him a glass of orange juice. "Though technically you never left the first time."

"The Daniel gang shot me, I think that means I left." Ryan hung his cape on the back of a nearby chair and fumbled with his shirt buttons. "And we . . . partnered with a selkie?"

"And a Christmas elf," Spencer confirmed. "Though tonight you and Jon were out by yourselves, because you aren't supposed to be big-time enough for an entourage and Pete thought I'd spook the asshole if I was furry." 

"Oh," Ryan murmured, and tugged his shirt off. He made a small startled noise when he saw the dark letters on his wrists.

"You really like that song," Brendon supplied, coming closer to the table, and Spencer slumped against him while he drank his orange juice.

Ryan ran his fingers over the letters slowly, then pulled the shirt on. Spencer turned his face in Brendon's belly and Brendon started stroking his hair largely automatically, curling forward to check in while he did it. Spencer looked worn, all of a sudden, but otherwise intact. When he straightened up Ryan was holding his trousers and regarding the two of them thoughtfully. 

"What?" Spencer said, a little bit of a growl creeping into his voice.

"Nothing," Ryan said mildly. "Do either of you know what's up with my underwear?"

"No," Spencer said. "In fact I make it a point to be oblivious to everything happening below your chin."

"They're pink," Brendon observed, tilting his body to one side for a better look. "And stripe-y, mostly cotton, though I think I see some lace, maybe a - yes, that's a bow."

Ryan opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was forestalled by more knocking at the front door. Brendon eased away from Spencer and went to answer it. When he came back, Chizzy and the Butcher trailing behind him, Ryan was fully dressed and pouring Spencer some more orange juice. Brendon occupied himself with making coffee for everyone and let Spencer take care of the introductions.

"So, I brought a special guest to see you," the Butcher said, when Ryan sat down, and fished a tiny figure out of his coat pocket.

The room was suffused with the faint smell of sugar cookies and peppermint, and Ryan's eyes got even wider. Brendon grabbed a thimble out of the cupboard and put a drop of coffee into it.

"Hands out, like - yeah, that's it," the Butcher said, and lowered Jon into Ryan's palms.

Brendon handed out the coffee, and opened another box of cookies. 

"Okay, so let's start from the beginning," the Butcher said, stretching his fingers out and picking up his pen. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Waking up under a pile of leaves in the wolf run in Runyon Canyon," Ryan said, not looking away from Jon. 

"Hmmm. And before that?" Butcher asked, while Chizzy hovered over Ryan with blinking medical devices.

"Going to the Fairy Ball at the Starlight," Ryan murmured, frowning at Jon's waving arms. "What? I don't - what is he saying?"

"He wants you to lean forward so he can grab your hair," Brendon explained, and Ryan obediently tilted forward.

"The Fairy Ball," Spencer repeated. "That was - shit. He's lost a good five years."

Butcher made a thoughtful noise and ate a cookie. Brendon drank his coffee slowly and wondered if anyone had followed Ryan to their apartment, and if they were going to have to go to a safehouse. 

"Ow!" Ryan said, shaking his head and sending Jon flying. 

Brendon darted forward but Chizzy got there first, catching Jon easily with one hand. Ryan curled in on himself and made low, unhappy noises. Chizzy set Jon on the table and exchanged a long look with Butcher before putting a hand on Ryan's shoulder and talking to him softly as he leaned in for a better look at the back of his head. Jon walked over to Spencer, climbed into his hand, and curled up in the center of his palm. Spencer petted him with a finger, then shifted him into the hollow of his collarbone.

"If he wasn't a vampire, he'd be dead," Chizzy said when he straightened up.

"I want to go home," Ryan said, rubbing his face. "Also there's a vampire on your roof."

"Good vampire or bad vampire?" Butcher asked, tilting his head back to study the ceiling.

"Cold, wet, and annoyed vampire," Ryan said. "He's looking for something and he can't find it and he's kind of freaking out. He doesn't want to kill anyone, though, so he's probably on your - our - side."

Spencer started to stand up and Brendon pushed him back down in the chair. "I'll go."

"Chizzy, go with him," Butcher said, as Brendon moved down the hallway. 

He opened the door slowly, ran down the stairs, and took a couple of steps onto the front stoop, leaving Chizzy enough room to move if he had to shoot the vampire. About thirty seconds later he felt a rush of air by his face and a heavily cloaked figure came to rest in front of him. Brendon crossed his arms and the vampire jolted backwards and flipped his hood down at the same time.

"Captain Greenwald," Brendon said. "Fancy meeting you here. Could I interest you in visiting our kitchen for some tea and cookies, or would you rather lurk on the roof some more?"

"I heard - on the wireless -" Greenwald began, curiously stilted and formal, and then trailed off into silence.

"He's - they're fucked up, but they're alive," Brendon said, relenting a little. "Come on in, you can see for yourself."

"Thank you," Greenwald murmured, and followed Brendon inside.

While Greenwald was getting settled, Brendon made more coffee and pulled another bag of cookies out of the cabinet, since Spencer had demolished the first one. When he set the mugs on the table he noticed Jon had emerged from Spencer's collarbone and transformed a corner of the table into a sparkly snowy wonderland. Greenwald picked him up briefly, and that was when Sisky climbed out of the Butcher's pocket and made a snowman, which promptly sprouted a top hat, a sparkly scarf, and two coal eyes. 

Butcher asked a few more questions about Ryan's apparently extended ramble through the underside of fey Los Angeles, and then closed his notebook with a soft _thump._

"All right, we're good for now," the Butcher said. "You guys can crash, I'm going to call in, and then Chizzy and Sisky and I will keep watch. We'll reconvene tomorrow - later today."

Ryan yawned, somehow hugely and daintily at the same time, then scooped Jon up, his face shifting into an anxious, uncertain expression. "I - I don't know where I live."

"You and Jon are staying here tonight," Spencer said, pressing his fingertips against his eyes. "You too, Greenwald, if you want."

"But -" Ryan began, his voice sliding towards petulance again.

"They're probably watching your house, dude," Greenwald cut in. 

Brendon decided Spencer and Greenwald could handle this argument by themselves, put his mug down on the counter and walked out with the others.

"The good news is, it sounds like they didn't realize he's a vampire, or a cop," the Butcher said as he pulled his jacket on. 

Brendon arched his eyebrows in disbelief, and Chizzy snorted into his scarf in agreement.

"As far as Jon knows they didn't see Ryan's shield, and there a lot of assholes with fake fangs who are into Neverland's finest, I guess, I don't fucking know," the Butcher said. "The bad news is, they probably think they killed him."

"Shit," Brendon said quietly, and the Butcher half-sighed, half-shrugged.

"We'll figure it out. You guys get some rest - we'll call you if anything changes," he said, pulling his hat down, and then they disappeared into the night. 

Brendon carefully threw all of the bolts and hooked up all of the chains before going to find their spare set of clean sheets and the blackout curtains. 

Later, once Jon was snoring softly on the pixie hammock and Ryan had washed the blood out of his hair and was ensconced on the couch with Greenwald and a pile of terrible movies, Brendon crawled into his own bed. Spencer was already there, and human, which was unusual. His eyes were closed, but Brendon could tell he wasn't quite asleep. Brendon pulled the blankets up over Spencer's shoulders and smoothed the wrinkles out gently.

Spencer mumbled something into his pillow that sounded like _can't change_ and _sorry_. Brendon petted him some more, and then - perhaps overcome by whatever Christmas magic Jon was working in the other room - leaned over and kissed Spencer's head. Spencer opened one eye and regarded him warily, and Brendon lay down, curling under Spencer's arm. He was even warmer than when he was furry, and he smelled like soap and peppermint.

"You're always welcome in my bed, Spencer," Brendon said, and then winced because that was so cheesy. 

Spencer snorted against Brendon's neck and kicked his ankle, but he cuddled him closer, just the same.


End file.
